When I turn out the lights for good old beddy bye, my brain rarely agrees with the clock.  My brain begins to jump, run, and flail in exultation.  Night time is here!  Time to be alert.  For whatever reason, my brain just does not acknowledge that I am an adult now and can’t sleep past 6am.

Instead, it runs through a rehearsal of every life event that might possibly come into play.  I silently monologue how I will lecture my students if A and B do not happen.  I practice what I will say at the wedding to different people.  I think of what I might say if R. did something particularly heinous.  I channel outrage and love and concise wit.  My brain is at its best as my body tries to wrest itself to sleep–tossing and turning as the wheels in my brain keep spinning going over conversations that will probably never happen.  In that hour before I fall asleep I argue my way out of tickets, I sing lullabies to my future children, I practice stories for my future grandchildren, and go through my Academy Award speech (for best original screenplay, of course).

What I wouldn’t do for a gloriously blank mind.

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